Goodbye Grid, Hello Bugs

 

Chapter 1 — The Movers, the Cheese Balls, and the Road Ahead

What a day. Finally, the big day had arrived — and already it felt like a distant memory as I sat down to write this much later. The movers showed up right on time at 7:30 AM and didn’t finish packing and loading until 12:30 PM. Two technicians appeared somewhere in the middle of it all, building special crates for the mirror and the glass top of the dresser.

Once the last box was sealed and the last tape gun click faded, Nelson and I went into deep-clean mode — scrubbing, sweeping, and packing the final odds and ends. By the time we rolled out of the apartment, it felt like we’d already done a full day’s work.

We drove to Louise and Lewis’ place next, where Friday afternoon traffic was already in full swing. A few more last-minute items got loaded into the van, and Louise handed us cheese balls — an absolute lifesaver since my entire day’s food intake up to that point had been two pieces of chocolate.

We pulled out of Hastings at around 5:30 PM ET, winding our way toward New Jersey. Dinner stop: Pide 28 in Paterson, where we picked up pide and took it to Garrett’s Memorial Park to eat for old times’ sake. From there, another two hours on the road took us to our first night’s stop — King of Prussia Service Plaza, PA.

Surprisingly quiet for a service plaza, and with the comfort of knowing it’s open 24 hours, we both got a solid night’s sleep. Just like that, the trip was officially underway.

Chapter 2 — Bread, Bugs, and Baguettes

We woke up at King of Prussia Service Plaza feeling surprisingly refreshed. First stop of the day: Trader Joe’s in Wilmington, Delaware, where we stocked up on provisions for the week ahead. Lunch was at LP Steamers in Baltimore — Maryland crab done the proper way, with brown paper on the table and wooden mallets in hand.

Our destination for the night was Hopscratch Farm in Warwick, MD. By the time we pulled in, the heat was heavy and the bugs were relentless. No matter how quickly we opened and closed the van door, a few still managed to sneak inside.

Dinner was simple — a baguette from Bread's Bakery, cheeses, and cold meat — eaten in the close, humid air. The two small USB fans we’d brought turned out to be worth their weight in gold. We fell asleep to the sound of crickets, hoping the bugs we’d trapped inside weren’t the biting kind.

Chapter 3 — Wild Horses and Horseshoe Crabs

We left Hopscratch Farm early, chasing cooler air and a proper bathroom. Breakfast was at a quiet rest area along US-301 — challah bread with boiled eggs and smoked salmon. We lingered just long enough to kill time before our check-in window at Assateague Island State Park.

By mid-afternoon, we rolled into site B29 — small, but level, and just steps from the dunes. The heat was unrelenting, so we kept lunch light with a charcuterie board, saving our steak from Hopscratch Farm for an early dinner.

That evening we walked the beach at sunset. No wild horses in sight, but we did pass a few massive, weathered horseshoe crab shells — strange, prehistoric reminders of the sea’s history. Later, on a loop through the campground, we finally found the famous Assateague ponies grazing in the distance.

Showers here were gloriously cool, and I even washed my hair — a small luxury after a few sticky days on the road.

Chapter 4 — Pancakes, Park Loops, and the Generator Mystery

Morning brought a stubborn wind, but I was determined to make pancakes from scratch. The first one took ages to cook, and I forgot the salt entirely, so they looked perfect but tasted like… nothing. Still, they were hot, fluffy, and eaten with enthusiasm.

We lingered until the last possible minute before leaving our campsite, then queued up at the dump station. The water fill line moved at a glacial pace, and in the end Nelson emptied the cassette toilet into a regular bathroom — efficiency over ceremony.

From there we headed south toward Chincoteague Island, stopping first at Woody’s BBQ for ribs, pulled pork, half a chicken, slaw, mac & cheese, and cornbread. The food was good, but the heat was brutal. By the time we reached the island’s wildlife loop, we were desperate for shade and cranked the generator to run the AC.

Twenty minutes later, silence. The generator had cut out, and with no reception, we were stuck with a paper manual, guesswork, and rising frustration. Eventually we retreated to a McDonald’s for Wi-Fi and ice cream. Advice from the Solis community suggested a “no load” warm-up and cool-down ritual for the generator. We tried it, and for now, it seemed to work.

The evening softened as we parked at a Harvest Host farm in Atlantic, VA. The air was thick with humidity, fireflies blinked along the edges of a massive cornfield, and five farm dogs made their rounds — Whiskers the mutt being the boldest, trying to climb right into the van. Dinner was marinated chicken stuffed into pita pockets with crisp vegetables, eaten to the sound of distant thunder.